


Not Quite So Sudden

by GrayJedi11



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety about Death, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Anxious Logan, Climate Change, Depressed Logic | Logan Sanders, Global Warming, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, M/M, Sad Logic | Logan Sanders, Stabbing, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, anxiety about climate change, hes mostly anxious, im discovering tags i was unaware of, logan needs help, please read chapter 2, probably, technically not major character death but i felt like i should tag the warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayJedi11/pseuds/GrayJedi11
Summary: Logan hits his breaking point.It's too much.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 10
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

Boom.

Well, not exactly. Quite far off, actually. More like…

Oh well, we’ll be fi- _proceeds to die._

But not quite that either. Maybe…

“We’re fine,” while starving, breathing pollution, and watching citizens live every day in panic.

Yeah.

And Logan had done nothing.

He’d had the chance. When he’d first gone to university, he’d chosen environmental science. He was going to join the fight against climate change as a scientist, a scientist who could do something. He’d been good at it, he’d been interested in it.

But no, his mental health was “degrading fast” and it was “too much” for him to keep going.

All words he’d said.

So he’d pursued music instead. Music was solace, music was easier than climate change. His friends had been supportive. His boyfriend, Virgil, had assured him that his mental health was worth it.

But yet, if he’d continued with environmental science, he wouldn’t be having that problem now. He could be doing things to fix global warming. Would’ve probably helped.

And here he was, sitting on his bed. Cello abandoned in the corner. Reading an article about how the world won’t last much longer. And a very recently sharpened kitchen knife on his arm.

Logan was smart. As a child he’d been classed as gifted and had moved far ahead in school. He could be the intelligent scientist fixing the problem. Reporting to this newspaper.

No, no, no, however. Instead he was here, torturing himself in multiple ways. A nice mentally degrading article and cuts were a good pair. He was just scared, scared of death and just knowing how real it was.

He should’ve been the name interviewed. Guess he wasn’t as smart as he thought if he was dumb enough to refuse to deal with the issue.

He could’ve quit the major and dealt with it another way. Shared information on Twitter. Researched about ways to help instead of not changing a single aspect of his life. Sure, it bothered him (a lot) and, as he’d said himself, if he wasn’t mentally stable enough to help much then he was doing all he could just thinking about it.

But wasn’t he mentally stable enough to do something?

There are things he could have done. Eaten better for the environment. Saved money to get a more eco-friendly car. Even mentioned it in conversations. It couldn’t have felt that bad to just do that.

And now he’s making other people suffer for his mental health.

Probably giving himself too much credit.

He knows what it’s like. What could one scientist do to fully stop and reverse climate change? He’d never be good enough. He’d never try hard enough. All he’d do is keep on worrying, keep on cutting, keep on being a useless bitch to society.

He didn’t have to be. He could go back, get his degree, try his best. It’d feel good to help, and with other people they could probably do it. Fix it.

But did he really want to?

In the few months of school he’d gone to with his environmental science major, he’d been miserable. He’d gone home to the apartment every day and sobbed. When he started dating Virgil, all he could do was weep into his chest. He didn’t really want to go back to that torture.

If it meant saving the world, though.

What was he thinking? He’d go back, Virgil would see how miserable he was, convince him to stop again, and then nothing would change.

He’d go back to this, but the article would be worse this time.

But then… there was another option.

Stop it. Stop being able to worry. Sure, everybody else would have to suffer through this, but isn’t it selfish anyway? And like he said, there wasn’t really any way to just fix it himself. He was worthless.

Another reason.

He was bleeding. And going to keep bleeding.

There you go, another reason.

He could think of more. 

Logan opened Discord. Not doing this randomly and out of the blue. No, he needed Virgil.

**Logan:** _virge, you know something_

**Anxiety™:** _ye?_

This needs to be in his style. Professional.

**Logan:** _The dead don’t worry._

**Anxiety™:** _Lo what do you mean? Are u ok?_

**Logan:** _If I was one of them, I’d have nothing to worry about._

Virgil took a little to respond. God, this was scary.

**Anxiety™:** _Logan, don’t. Its ok, just tell me what happened_

**Logan:** _It’s not okay, Virgil. I just didn’t want to surprise you. I’m going now._

Ironic, how he wanted this to avoid death. Guess he needed control.

Virgil called him. Logan picked up for hearing his boyfriend’s voice one last time.

“Logan, please.”

Virgil’s voice was shaking.

“I’m sorry.”

Now his was too.

“Logan, you’re not sorry because you’re not going to do anything. I’m coming over.”

Logan could hear traffic on the other side of the call. It would be about seven minutes before he got there from his dorm. At least he was too poor for them to live together.

“Lo, at least let me see you.”

He was sure to take the knife. He should do it now, then maybe he’d be able to die and see Virgil. 

Wait a little. He needed to see him.

He rocked back and forth, back and forth in preparation. He wondered what it would be like.

Say something simple. Something quick.

It was a big, pretty kitchen knife held close to him.

“Virgil, I love you.”

“Logan, Logan, please, no,”

He felt bad for Virgil’s cries and sobs, but… there was nothing else he could do.

He stabbed himself in the gut.

Enough to bleed out a little after Virgil got there.

“Logan! Logan where are you?” Virgil’s pained screams rang out through Logan’s apartment. His movements were desperate, collapsing on the bed when he found Logan.

Why? Why’d he do it? Look at Virgil.

He hurt him.

“Logan, I-I’m gonna, gonna get help,” he said, scrambling for bandages in the bathroom and struggling with his phone.

Three quick bloops and bandages in his hand.

Guess this is why humans can multitask.

You’ve just attempted suicide and this is what you’re thinking?

Not all of what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about what just happened. At this point he was thinking about how this was a bad decision. And Virgil.

Virgil, looking sweet through his terror. Virgil wrapping his torso in bandages while on the phone with 911. Virgil with a prayer in his eyes that Logan would be alright.

Quietly, he managed a plead for Virgil. He wanted Virgil to hug him. Even if he died right now, Virgil was here to hold him. Death didn’t have to be chaotic like it sometimes is. Logan was lucky. He had the chance to die with his boyfriend, experiencing love rather than regret.

Luckily sirens weren’t the last thing he ever heard.

“L-Logan, I love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welp this resoleves the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is literally 103 words dont expect too much

Light.

This must be heaven.

Then whose are the gorgeous purple eyes?

His weight shifted towards warmth. White sheets dressed his body. The fabric pressed against his shut eyes felt soft in a squishy, human kind of way. He hugged and shook, steadying himself to breathe. The fabric started humming a pained, yet hopeful tune.

_“Hmm, hmm hmm, hmm hmm...”_

It finally didn’t have to be real. It didn’t have to be fake. It just was. It was the present, and there was nothing he could, or wanted, to do but accept it. The heartbeat was no longer sudden.

“Lo-

You made it.”


End file.
